


Arthur Alone

by tenshi13



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arthur feels some things, Character Death, Episode AU: s04e13 Journey's End, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Revealed, Misunderstandings, it's Agravaine though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27403330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenshi13/pseuds/tenshi13
Summary: In which Arthur comes back for Merlin, as he always will, and overhears something not meant for his ears. But as Arthur struggles with the loss and betrayal of those closest to him, not all is as it seems.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 134





	Arthur Alone

Agravaine was dead. Arthur had plunged his sword through his back, the barest of hesitation. It was the least honourable way to kill a man, but now they were even, he supposed – both backstabbers in the end. The blade was still in him when he made eye contact with Merlin over the dead man’s shoulder.

“I told you not to do anything stupid.” His voice sounded weak to his own ears, or maybe that was the blood rushing in them, crowding out all other noise. He felt curiously outside himself, like his limbs no longer belonged to him. Surely, it wasn’t his hands shaking, his voice that broke on the last word.

But for once, Merlin was speechless. “Arthur-” his hand was outstretched, clasping at the air in front of him. He looked pained.

Why was Merlin pained? It was Merlin who had deceived him, Merlin who had betrayed him, Merlin, who was his friend. He struggled to pull the sword out of Agravaine’s corpse, until it came free with a wet sound. Arthur felt bile rise in his throat.

He’d trusted this man. When he’d shown up out of the blue unannounced, Arthur had been overjoyed. When he closed the gates on hungry people, when he suggested blame, when he made pointed suggestions, he cast his suspicions aside. This was his family, the very last of it.

“Is it true, Merlin?”

The younger man had finally dropped his arm in favour of curling it around himself, as if he didn’t hold on, he would simply fall apart. He was crying.

“Tell me it’s not true.”

“Arthur-”

And he yelled out with pain with rage with hurt because he knew Merlin could not deny it. His silence damned him.

Arthur was used to killing people. He was especially good at killing people he loved. The evidence lay at his feet. In his mother’s grave. In his fathers, even. After all, it was he who’d brought the sorcerer to his bedside. And one day, he would kill Morgana, his own sister whom he had cherished since before he knew of any blood relation, who had helped sneak an innocent boy out of Camelot, had ranted at him until she was sure he would go rescue her servant, had crossed blades with bandits for a village of people she didn’t know. Yes, he had resigned himself to killing even Morgana.

But every man had a limit, and Arthur found his beneath the cool earth, the last of his family dead, facing down the one person he who he had thought would never betray him. His hands were lead. He could forfeit every member of his family, but he could not kill Merlin.

He twirled the blade in his hand and held it out, hilt first. What did his own life matter now Camelot had fallen? He was done with making sacrifices. If Merlin wanted to kill him, then Arthur wanted to die.

Merlin did not take it.

Whatever else he’d done or planned to do; he did not take it.

“The others will be getting ahead,” Arthur managed to say. When he turned to leave, he could hear Merlin’s clumsy steps following him and his heart leapt in his chest. When he examined this feeling more closely, he identified it as relief.

In the forests of Camelot, prince and manservant lay on their bedrolls in the darkness, watching the glimpses of stars through the canopy above. Neither could sleep.

Even when Camelot was theirs once more, Arthur didn’t smile.

The evening was wearing on when Arthur walked into his bedchambers to find Merlin sat on a stool, hunched over, polishing Excalibur. Or at least he deduced that’s what he had been doing, now he was just moving it listlessly from one hand to the other, his gaze a million miles away.

“Don’t think too hard, you’ll injure yourself _,_ ” is what he would have said, in some other lifetime. In this one, he brushed past and went straight for the parchment he’d forgotten on the desk.

“Excalibur was forged in a dragon’s breath,” Merlin said, almost conversationally. Which was odd not only because of the words themselves, but because he’d said almost nothing since that night. Distantly, Arthur remembered there was a time he’d have given anything to have Merlin shut up for five minutes. Be careful what you wish for. He smiled wryly.

“Gwen gave me the sword initially. I took it beneath the castle to where the great dragon was held and I swore to him you would be the only man ever to wield it. He breathed fire upon the blade, giving it the power to kill even that which was already dead.” He shifted Excalibur to his other hand. “Eventually, I had to put it somewhere no man could wield it, so it wouldn’t be misused, or at least anymore than it already had. So, I thrust it into the stone and asked that only the rightful ruler of Albion be able to remove it. The magic of the earth answered me, and it became so.”

“Merlin, what nonsense is this?” It was so baffling that it could hardly be a manipulation, or if it was a very poor one. The legend of the sword in the stone was ancient, so reasonably Excalibur must be too. That aside, why would Merlin of all people be making magic swords and shoving them into random rocks. That wasn’t even how magic worked.

“Listen to me Arthur,” Merlin commanded, “Only Excalibur can kill a high priestess of the old religion. Do you understand?”

“Morgana,” he blurted, without thinking. “Merlin, what are you talking about?”

With reverential care Merlin took Excalibur and placed it on its stand. He stood motionlessly for a moment, as if gathering himself. “My magic.”

Arthur blinked. “Your what?”

Merlin turned about on his heel, anger bubbling to the surface. “Oh, come off it Arthur, you know, my magic, the thing we’ve been ignoring for _weeks._ ”

“I-” it felt like someone had turned an hourglass and all his neatly arranged thoughts were sand cascading, slowly, but surely, making to settle in the complete opposite configuration to what they had been.

A furrow appeared between Merlin’s brows as it dawned on him that Arthur was being genuine, “You didn’t know? What exactly did you think happened in the caves?”

He’d gone back for Merlin, of course. The bumbling, useless, clumsy, brave, loyal manservant of his. He was just about to round the corner when he’d heard Agravaine. With nowhere better to hide he’d pressed himself against the wall, biding his time.

“And you’ve been at court, all this time…” It was Agravaine, sounding almost wondering. “At Arthur’s side. How you’ve managed to deceive him–”

 _Oh,_ Arthur had thought, dimly. The only two people in the entire court that had been above suspicion, and both had betrayed him in the end. Was his judgement really so poor? Or perhaps he inspired it in them.

“–I am impressed. Perhaps we’re more alike than you think.”

He’d been unable to bear it for a second longer. Sword first, Arthur jumped in, ready to subdue his uncle and demand an explanation of Merlin, only to see Merlin’s hand outstretched, reaching for Agravaine’s. And Arthur had not hesitated to-

“You’re such a clotpole.”

“Excuse me?”

“There were like twelve dead bodies hanging around, who did you _think_ had killed them? And you thought _I_ was about to make nice with _Agravaine,_ Arthur are you even listening to yourself? I’d been telling you for _months_ he was suspect. Also, how many sorcerers have tried to kill you in the past, because personally I’ve lost count. How can you not know magic when you see it! Are you blind?”

The sand hit the bottom of the hourglass and settled. “Yes Merlin, I think I have been rather blind, don’t you?”

They held each other’s gaze, until Merlin realised something, “Arthur you thought I was willing to join forces with Agravaine and was plotting against Camelot and you _gave me a sword._ You let me return to Camelot with you! Do you have _no_ self-preservation _whatsoever?_ ”

“But you’re not,” Arthur said, simply. “You never betrayed me.” He was overwhelmed for a minute, by some tight feeling that had settled in his chest, somewhere near where his heart lived. They’d gotten closer as they’d argued, less than an arm’s length away.

“Of course not.” He said it like it you might say the sky is blue or the grass is green. Like it was obvious. Like it was true.

Arthur, for all his talents, had never been overly gifted with words, but it was important to him that Merlin knew what those words did to him, how they soothed some old ache within him that he thought would never heal. He reached for Merlin, and Merlin came to him, easily, gently, as if maybe they would shatter. He hugged him fiercely to his chest, burying his face in the slope of his neck.

They had things to talk about, he knew. About this power within Merlin, the lies and secrets between them, not to mention the draft of a new bill hidden away in his desk draw. It had been the first thing he’d wrote after his father died, and he’d promptly locked it away, ashamed at himself and his audacity. Every time he’d brought it out since he could only picture his father’s disappointed face and had never had the courage to put the new law to vote. He didn’t think that he would have that problem anymore.

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Merlin.”

“Are we going to stay like this much longer? Because I’m developing a crick in my neck.”

Arthur smiled devilishly, “Of course not, you’ve hardly the time. There’s my room to clean, clothes to wash, armour to polish, horses to muck out…”

**Author's Note:**

> tl;dr Arthur is so busy being relieved Merlin hasn't betrayed him that he forgets to be mad about the magic
> 
> Obviously this is very different from the cannon magic reveal, but I hope that given the circumstances it's not too out of character. I think Arthur is very vulnerable at this point in the series, and that the self doubt and isolation he feels may push him to be more accepting of Merlin than he otherwise would be. Also we don't tend to sympathise much with Arthur in magic reveal fics, because obviously we're on Merlin's side, but to Arthur it's a true betrayal, so I imagine he would react similarly to finding out Merlin had magic and finding out Merlin is heinously betraying him, because to Arthur these two things are one and the same. 
> 
> Hopefully this fic actually made sense and wasn't too on the nose. Concrit welcome :)


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